


Mercutio and Tybalt's Day Off

by orphan_account



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, and bencutio, hints of everything tbh, hints of tycutio, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercutio is sick. Tybalt is also sick. With neither one of them pleased at being sick, chaos is bound to ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Actually Dying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SosearchingRomeo (Breakingthestandards)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breakingthestandards/gifts).



“Ich habe dis,” groaned Mercutio, burying his face in his pillow in order to hide the startling bright red of his nose. From where he sat on the edge of the bed, a book in his lap, Benvolio glanced up.

“You know, you’re coming alarmingly close to speaking German right there.”

In response, Mercutio simply flung his pillow at the smirking boy’s head. His equilibrium off, the pillow sailed easily over Benvolio’s shoulder and wound up connecting with the table on the other side of the room, knocking over a lamp. Mercutio groaned again, even louder this time, before rolling onto his stomach and pressing his face into his mattress.

Benvolio let out a sigh, casting his book aside and going over to gather the thankfully undamaged lamp off the ground. Carefully placing it back on the table, he considered it for a few seconds before readjusting it to make sure it had been set just right. “You have a cold, Cutio,” he remarked wryly. “You aren’t dying.”

“I might as well be!” the blond exclaimed, his words both muffled by the mattress and his sinuses. “Valentine had to go and give me his stupid germs! I’m ruined! It’s over for me! My life is stopped, my breathing is plugged, my nose is a fountain, vitality is leaking out of me with every cough! I'm finished! I’m hideous! Look at me, Benvolio!”

The other boy raised an eyebrow, and as quickly as Mercutio had picked his head up he promptly dropped back down again. “Aah, no, don’t look at me! I’ll burn your eyes from their sockets!”

“Have you _seen_ Romeo in the morning? Trust me, I can handle your ugly today. I do all the rest of the time.”

“That’s harsh, Benvolio,” muttered the ill royal petulantly. “Really har-” Mercutio’s voice suddenly died off; Benvolio blinked, watching as Mercutio slowly raised his head again, an odd expression on his face. There was a second of pause before a violent sneeze shook his frame, and he fell back again with a moan.

"Dying... dying, dying, dying..."

Benvolio rolled his eyes; he picked up his book again and found where he had left off, figuring that at this point the best thing he could do was just ignore Mercutio entirely. As usual, his friend had other ideas. 

"Help me, Benvolio."

"Tell me, how on earth could I do that?"

"Kiss me."

Promptly, Benvolio let out a derisive snort and scooted closer to the end of the bed, away from Mercutio's lips should they decide to try and seek him out. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"So you can be sick with me," Mercutio replied, grasping at Benvolio's sleeve imploringly. "We can pass into the afterlife together. I won't have to suffer alone."

Shaking the stubborn teen off, Benvolio shook his head. He didn't want Mercutio's cold; he had an English paper due at the end of the week. The only reason he was hanging around the ailing Mercutio now was because he had felt bad that the other boy had been forced to miss school due to his illness. "I'm not kissing you," he replied with a firm shake of his head. "But I will get you some water for your throat."

"Water," Mercutio intoned flatly. "How fun." Then, as if triggered by the mention of his inflamed throat, he broke out into a heavy coughing fit that left him hunched over on the bed, struggling for air. Benvolio patted him gently on the back until the moment passed.

"Do you need any more medicine?" he asked, his brow bent with worry as he leaned in a bit farther than he probably should have. Breathlessly, Mercutio shook his head.

"Ben-"

“What is it?”

“I need you to do something for me.” Mercutio grabbed Benvolio by the shirt collar with one hand, using the other to gesture to his desk. “Give me a tissue. Right there.”

Obligingly, the brunet did so, and he watched in bafflement as Mercutio purposefully coughed into it a few times before drawing back and studying it. A few seconds passed before he seemed pleased, and he then gestured to the floor. “Give me the plastic bag down there.”

As Benvolio handed him the requested item, Mercutio’s eyes glinted wickedly; smiling for the first time since his dreadful illness had begun, he placed the tissue in the bag, zipped it tightly closed, and then held it out to Benvolio. “Will you do anything for me?”

“Anything,” the other boy replied, deciding to play along out of sheer curiosity. “I could never not fulfill your final wish.”

“I need you,” Mercutio enunciated, leaning forward his voice was deadly serious, “to take this bag. And I need you to bring it to Tybalt.”

Benvolio blinked. “You want me to what.”

“I want you to bring this scourge down upon Tybalt’s greasy head!” Mercutio’s fist slammed down on the bedspread. “He deserves this agony more than anyone else! You have to do this for me, Benvolio! I’m dying, you must!”

Benvolio stared blankly at the bag in his hands for a long moment. His gaze slowly drifted up to the ceiling; and then back down, reluctantly, to the teen lying in bed. “You want to poison Tybalt with your disease?”

“Yes.”

He let out a long breath; Mercutio’s unpredictable whims had struck again, and he could see by the look on the other boy’s face that there was no getting out of this one so easily. In order for someone to infiltrate the Capulet mansion and plant the diseased artifact in Tybalt’s room, they would either have to be very bold or very stupid; they would also need a working knowledge of the Capulet mansion, so as not to accidentally infiltrate the kitchen by mistake (though for some Montagues, infecting the entire Capulet house wouldn’t necessarily be seen as a bad thing). And they would, of course, need a complete disregard for the fact that they were putting their very life on the line to execute this. In short, a very _special_ person would be required.

Benvolio sighed. “I’ll go get Romeo,” he said, and Mercutio’s face lit up like a child on Christmas day.


	2. Super Spy

Romeo Montague was without a doubt the best spy in the entire world.

He was stealthy. He could slink unnoticed through a crowded room, assassinate the most important person in the world without drawing a single gaze, and escape easily- nothing more than a shadow in the night.

At least, this was the fantasy that played through Romeo's mind as he very painstakingly hauled himself over the fence on the farthest side of the Capulet garden. His daydream was quite shattered when he lost his balance and plummeted eight feet to the ground, landing hard on his back and knocking the air from his lungs. He lay on the ground for a long moment, writhing, before managing to pull himself to his feet. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen from that fence; he doubted it would be the last.

Climbing the trellis to Juliet's balcony was considerably easier, probably given the fact that he had done so many times before. He knew exactly where Juliet's room was located, as well as the fact that she never locked her balcony doors; he felt a bit bad for using his girlfriend's bedroom as means to enact his scheme, but the delicate nature of this mission deemed extreme measures necessary.

As he crept down the hallway (once, late at night, Juliet had given him a covert tour of the Capulet mansion, so he was lucky enough to know exactly where Tybalt's room was located), his footsteps made little sound on the heavy carpet. The hallways were dark and shadowed, and the atmosphere did little to calm his nerves- as exciting as this was, he also couldn't help but feel beyond nervous. If he was caught, he had little doubt that he'd be threatened and kicked out- or worse, if the capture was at Tybalt's hands.

He had expected Tybalt's room to be fairly silent; Juliet had told him before that, though her cousin spent most of his time either there or training, he rarely drew much attention to himself and preferred the peace of an empty room. The sound of voices behind Tybalt's oak door- not just any voice either, but a familiar _female_ voice- immediately set Romeo on edge. What would Juliet be doing in Tybalt's bedroom?

Forgetting all caution, the Montague pressed his ear to the door and listened. Inside the room, he could make out two voices distinctly, bickering in exasperated tones.

"Tybalt, just lay down. Quit trying to get up."

"No! I'm fine, I need to train!"

"You _can't_ train in your condition. You'll stab yourself in the eye."

"Juliet, I haven't been out of bed in two days."

"And you're still feverish." Romeo heard Juliet sigh as, presumably, she pushed her cousin back down in bed again. "Please, cousin, you need to rest. Regain your strength."

"I can't rest here," Tybalt muttered in a petulant tone. "Uncle is throwing a party tonight, of all things. It will be chaos, you're going to be there, and I have to be down too. I'm supposed to watch out for danger, and I can't do that if I'm in bed! Nor," he added pointedly at what must have been Juliet's attempt to interject, "will I be able to rest."

Juliet was quiet for a long moment. Romeo heard what sounded like the rustling of bedsheets, followed by a stern noise from Juliet. Presumably having just thwarted another escape attempt, Juliet sighed. "One moment," she said, and hasty footsteps were suddenly approaching the door. "I'll go get something that will help you-"

Her words were cut off as she flung the door open, and suddenly was nearly knocked off her feet as Romeo fell forward into the room. "Relax!" she exclaimed hastily, both to finish her sentence and ward off her cousin, who was struggling now to sit up and see what that odd shriek (from Romeo) had been. As quickly as possible, she and Romeo both darted from the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Romeo?" Juliet gaped at him incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"I..." Romeo was at a dilemma. Mercutio's contaminated tissue was still in his back pocket, but with Tybalt in the state he was in it was clear that they wouldn't really need it anymore. Not to mention, telling his girlfriend _"oh, I broke into your house on a covert mission to infect your evil cousin with the cold of the century,"_ was pretty much guaranteed to make Romeo very unwelcome anywhere near the Capulet mansion for a very long time. He needed to come up with a lie- fast.

"I came here to see you," he replied, and after a second Juliet broke into a fond grin.

"Of course you did," she replied, planting a kiss on his nose. "But you're crazy! You have to be more careful!" As she spoke, she seemed to realize just how dangerous the situation was for them; hastily, she dragged Romeo behind a corner, further away from the main hallway where the servants always passed through. "If anyone had seen you..."

"I know. I'm sorry." Romeo pressed his lips to the crown of her head. "I just couldn't stay away."

The girl let out a sigh, and it was impossible for Romeo not to notice how haggard she looked; as if she hadn't slept for days. "Poor Tybalt's been sick as a dog for the past few days. He simply won't rest any longer- I have no clue what to do!" Juliet frowned, shaking her head. "We've resorted to giving him medicines in order to keep him groggy, just so he'll stay put, but we can't keep that up forever. And he's right; with the party tonight, he won't get any rest."

"I wish I could wipe that frown right off your face, and take all your troubles along with it." Romeo brushed his thumb over his girlfriend's lips, and the gesture caused a small smile to appear on Juliet's face. It only lasted for a moment, though- too quickly, she returned to solemnity.

"Stay in my room," she whispered, nodding to the door not far down the hall. "I'll be there once Tybalt's resting."

Patience had never been one of Romeo's greatest virtues. Like an obedient boyfriend, he remained in Juliet's room for what felt like ages; by the time he heard footsteps passing the door he was relieved, but peering through the crack was dismayed to find that Juliet was only just returning with the medicine for her cousin. Promptly, he decided that he simply couldn't wait any longer; he followed the girl down the hallway, stopping just short of Tybalt's room.

The Capulet scion didn't protest as Juliet gently poured the liquid down his throat; with a slight wince he swallowed it, shaking his head in dismissal at the water that was promptly offered to him. He leaned back against the pillows again with a sigh, relishing the cool feeling of Juliet's hands brushing his hair from his forehead.

"Sleep now, cousin," muttered Juliet. "If only for a little while."

The medicine worked mercifully fast; already, the world around him seemed fuzzy and far away, though the fever couldn't be helping matters much. Drowsily, he lifted a hand to take Juliet's own, running a rough finger along her uncalloused palm. "Juliet," he sighed, content at simply having the calming presence of his cousin near him; smiling gently, Juliet gave his hand another squeeze.

"When you wake, your fever will be gone," she dictated reassuringly. "And you'll be free to do whatever you want..."

Tybalt didn't reply. He had already fallen back into the clutches of sleep.

Juliet was wrong. When Tybalt would wake, his fever would not be gone. Little did poor Tybalt know that, as Romeo stepped into the room with an idea suddenly fresh in his head, he was soon to wake into one of his worst nightmares...

xXx

Tybalt opened his eyes blearily; sleep hung heavily over his mind, and even as he slowly faded into consciousness he had to fight off the alluring notion of just closing his eyes again. However, as he became more aware of his surroundings staying awake suddenly proved to be much easier; for one thing, he was definitely not in his room.

He turned his head, and the first thing he saw was a messy haired, red nosed Mercutio- positively grinning back at him. "Good morning, sunbeam!"

Tybalt did the first thing he could think of. He screamed.


	3. Tybalt Is Not A Kitten

"You didn't have to start shouting."

"Do you know how terrifying it is to wake from sleep and immediately be confronted with..." His cousin could only assume that Tybalt's vague gestures referred to Mercutio's (grinning) face. " _That?_ Yes, I _did._ "

In spite of Tybalt's obvious disgruntlement, the prince's nephew wore a Cheshire smile so wide, you might have assumed it was his birthday. "Oh, dear Tybalt, so you weren't happy to see me after all? When you looked ready to pass out again, I assumed it was from joy."

"I take very little joy out of this delightful little... experience."

"Oh?" Mercutio mimed being hurt.

"In fact, the only pleasure the occasion brings me is the chance to fulfill one of my childhood dreams." A smug smirk played across Tybalt's face. "I get to see Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer up close."

Juliet had to bury her face in a pillow to stifle her snort, as Mercutio once again hid his face by pulling the blankets up over his head. Insulting Tybalt was one thing; but when it was his handsome face whose reputation was being sullied, all cards were off the table. "A fine remark from you! When you were carried into the room, I was sure Death itself had come to call on me!"

Ignoring this comment, Tybalt seized on the most pressing matter at hand and turned to his cousin. "On that note: I don't assume you were able to drag me all the way from my room, out of the mansion, and into the palace sickroom on your own. Who helped you?"

Juliet hesitated a beat before replying, "Peter. I told him my plan."

Tybalt muttered a petulant _"traitor,"_ under his breath, sinking deeper into the covers- even in the infirmary, the beds were still more comfortable than his own. A hard bed was supposed to be appropriate _"warrior living,"_ as his uncle had explained it- Tybalt just called it _"back problems,"_ but to each his own, he supposed. From the bed next to him, he heard Mercutio snicker.

"Why do I have to be in here with this one?"

"Believe me, Tybalt," Mercutio retorted, poking himself out of bed so only his eyes were visible, "you're just as delightful."

Tybalt turned pleading eyes on Juliet, but his cousin, in an uncharacteristic display of cold-heartedness, simply turned her head- wholly abandoning the unfortunate to his fate. "Now boys, you're going to both play nice in here until you're better. Tonight I will attend the ball, and I'll be back in the morning with Peter to bring Tybalt back home."

At this news, Tybalt automatically began to struggle to push himself up in bed. "Juliet! You can't go to the ball without any protection!"

"Father had his own guards, cousin."

"But I won't be there!"

"And I will miss dancing with you." The girl gently eased her cousin back, wiping sweat from his feverish brow with a gentle hand. She gave him a brief smile- the slightest reassurance that everything would be okay- and then pushed herself up from the bed. "But, I hardly think I should be wanting in protection or a dance partner tonight, so your skills, Tybalt, however apt, are unnecessary. Rest, cousin." Her eyes danced with a testing light as she gave Tybalt a stern glare. "And for once in your life do as you're told."

But Tybalt wasn't done. "Who will you dance with?"

"Peter promised to accompany me the entire night."

"Juliet!" Tybalt's renewed alarm at this statement was ignored by his cousin, who disregarded his attempts to leave the bed with a cheery wave before briskly exiting the room. Tybalt continued to shout after her for several more minutes after her prompt departure, cursing both Peter's name and his own inadequate physical strength to the heavens.

All of his shouting did little to appease the second person in the room- the one who had actually been awake to see Juliet and Romeo stumble an unconscious Tybalt into the room, forcing him to "walk" between them almost like a scene straight from a movie. He could only guess at their plans, but he knew two things for sure- all this yelling was giving him a headache, and if he had to spend a night with Tybalt then by god he was going to make the best of it.

"Will you stop?" he demanded testily after a few moments of increasing incoherency from the Capulet invalid. Tybalt cast him a fierce glare that might have melted a lesser man in his seat, had the boy not been sweating buckets and looked like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in three days. Mercutio simply rolled his eyes, watching in vague interest as Tybalt finally managed to pull himself out of bed and promptly fell over as his legs gave out on him. He landed flat on his face, sprawled across the carpet with all the grace of an infant deer. The prince's nephew snorted.

"Get back in bed, bright one."

"I have to get to that party," Tybalt muttered, though from the ground he sounded less like a brooding teen and more a petulant child.

"You can't walk," Mercutio smartly pointed out, though in his head the strings of a plan were beginning to weave themselves together. He liked his plans- they always had a high chance of going wrong, and this one was no exception. It could be fun.

"Well," Tybalt remarked testily- still on the ground- "you think of something."

Mercutio rolled his eyes. "Tybalt, dear, if you don't think I already have, you don't know me well enough."

"Call me 'dear' one more time-"

Tybalt's words suddenly cut themselves off as his face took on a strained expression; likewise, Mercutio paused in his movements to get out of bed, his back tensing in anticipation. At the same moment, both boys let out violent sneezes that wound up jolting them both like an electric charge.

"Oh my god," Mercutio moaned, pressing his hands to his face. He sounded oddly delighted; Tybalt, quickly recovering, side-eyed him. "You sneeze like a kitten."

Tybalt couldn't remember ever hating his precious cousin more than in that moment. Anyone who would leave him alone with Mercutio had to know that the boy himself was an effective form of torture.


	4. Grandmama Goes Rogue

Juliet loved Tybalt. She really did.

Her cousin had been one of her closest companions for as long as she could remember. He constantly stood by her side, protecting her, guarding her, and making sure no harm ever befell her. He could be great fun when he set his mind to it, even if he did scowl too much. Juliet was proud to say that she would do absolutely anything for her cousin, her constant protector.

… and perhaps therein lay the problem.

Tybalt _was_ her constant guardian; almost to the point where it became irksome, having someone perpetually watching over your shoulder, always suspicious, always waiting for something dastardly to happen. She worried about her cousin at times; he never seemed content to just rest for an evening or allow himself to enjoy life. He always had to be on his guard, and that was no way to live. She understood that Tybalt was at his core a victim of circumstances, but he had become a creature of suspicion and habit, and this left him little time to simply allow his guard down and relax.

For as much as he adored her, Tybalt really underestimated how cunning she could be. Romeo, of course, had been sneaking into her room to visit her for over a month now, and she revelled in her little secret boyfriend. This scheme- taking the feverish Tybalt out of the excited Capulet household and “walking” him across town straight into the palace infirmary- hadn’t actually been her idea, but she’d readily gone along with it. It was almost perfect- in the palace, Tybalt would be sure to get the peace and quiet he so needed, as well as the appropriate medical care. He’d be able to allow himself to rest, and as for her- well, selfish as it perhaps was, she’d admit that it really was nice to spend one night out from under “the Capulet watchdog’s” nose.

Romeo looked handsome in his black suit, his hair combed back and smoothed down as opposed to it’s usual haphazard curling about his face. He was practically unrecognizable from the young Montague heir; this was perfect for Juliet, who in her own pink silk made an alluring sight; she spun around the ballroom in her lover’s arms without a care, delighted beyond measure to simply spend an evening with Romeo- right under the noses of the rest of the Capulet house. Nothing could be more fun.

As far as plans went, this had been a very good one.

xXx

This was a very bad plan.

“Mercutio!” Tybalt hissed, shifting under the heavy veil that had been placed over his head. “I’m burning up under here!”

“Oh please, you aren’t that hot,” Mercutio replied derisively, rolling his eyes and discreetly giving his old “grandmama” a slight kick to the leg. Since Tybalt hadn’t been able to walk, the logical solution had been to put the Capulet scion in a wheelchair; this, followed by a large blanket draped over his lap and a veil to cover his face created the perfect illusion of Mercutio’s “poor sweet grandmama, still in mourning for her dearly departed husband”. Tybalt hadn’t been at all pleased about the scheme; but once Mercutio himself had donned a suitably sophisticated outfit and covered his irritated nose with enough concealer to hide a house, he had been able to sneak them into the Capulet party with alarming ease. Tybalt decided he would really need to review house security measures; it was becoming far too easy for just anybody to walk in.

“All I ask,” Tybalt muttered through gritted teeth, “is for you to stop approaching random people and telling the story of how ‘dear grandpapa was lost at sea’. I can only pretend to cry so many times before it starts getting old- and it’s hot under here.”

Mercutio pouted crossly- he had gotten Tybalt in, after all, so why shouldn’t he be allowed to have his fun? “All you’ve been doing is spying on Juliet all night.”

Tybalt choked indignantly. “I have been- guarding the- noble house of Capulet, who under my trained eye- I mean, I haven’t been- ugh, shut up!”

Huh. Mercutio tilted his head, considering; normally it took more than that to get Tybalt frustrated. Maybe he really was feeling hot under the collar. Discreetly, he slipped a hand under Tybalt’s veil and pressed the back of it to the Capulet boy’s head; he had to fight the urge to hiss. Tybalt’s forehead was _burning._

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Tybalt shot back, as crossly as ever; Mercutio could tell that his attention was focused on Juliet once more. His own eyes trailed the girl in pink as she spun across the ballroom, a familiar figure constantly by her side. From where he remained seated in his chair, Tybalt let out an irritated growl. “Who _is_ that boy?”

Mercutio knew full well who that boy was; he had to admit, he was a bit impressed with Romeo and Juliet not only for concocting such a scheme but for taking full advantage of their friends’ respective illnesses to do so. He might have felt a bit used, were this not completely something he would have done himself. As it was, he had to admire not just the couple’s ambition but their sheer bravery; they were spending a romantic evening together right under the entire Capulet clan’s noses, and no one was any the wiser. He almost felt bad for bringing Tybalt here, after all.

Tybalt let out a slight panting breath, and Mercutio’s brow furrowed. Scratch that, he definitely felt bad. Tybalt was sick, even sicker than he was (Mercutio still couldn’t breathe out of his nose, and it was _bothering_ him); there was little doubt that the hecticness of the Capulet ball room would do little to help him regain his strength. In fact, Mercutio feared that his fever was actually getting worse.

"Tybalt, darling," he said at last, after several long moments of contemplating whether or not he should act, "as much as I hate to ruin your night, it might be time for us to go."

"Why?" There was an edge to Tybalt's voice that Mercutio recognized well. "We're not getting kicked out. I have every right to be here- and unfortunately, so do you."

"I am aware, you've tried to get me kicked out of these parties enough times to know.” Of course, as prince’s nephew no one was about to turn Mercutio away from a social gathering, no matter how notorious his reputation for causing mischief was. “However, I fear you may actually be ill, and instead of spying on your cousin’s date night you should really be in bed.”

Tybalt snorted. “Well, it’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it? No.” He shook his head. “I’m going to find out who that boy is.”

Mercutio raised an unimpressed eyebrow. There weren’t exactly any masks for Tybalt to dramatically tear off, and with Romeo by Juliet’s side all night chances of Tybalt catching him alone were slim to none. He didn’t realize that Tybalt was in fact wheeling himself away from him until the other boy had made it halfway to the dance floor. “Hey!” he spun around, letting out an alarmed yelp. “Tyb- adora! Grandmama! Come back here this instant you old hag, or else!”

Tybalt was very intent on ignoring him; Mercutio was very intent of getting the idiot out of the way before he caused a scene. Already he had made it on to the dance floor and was disrupting dancers, wheeling over feet and bumping into bodies. He received no shortage of dirty looks as he made a beeline straight for the oblivious couple; Mercutio stumbled after him, tripping more than once as he followed along the path of disruption Tybalt left in his wake.

He managed to grab the back of Tybalt’s chair just before he could literally run over Romeo; the young couple remained completely blind to their peril, spinning and turning in time to the music as their eyes gleamed with delight. Glancing under the veil, Mercutio could see Tybalt’s eyes shining too, but for an entirely different reason.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Tybalt hissed. “Let me go after them!”

“No!” Mercutio hastily wheeled him off the dance floor, casting apologies over his shoulder for his _“poor grandmamma Tybadora, going senile, you know how it is, thinks she’s still young as a bird”_ as he did so. Tybalt was quiet, thankfully, but Mercutio could practically feel him seething under the heavy veil. He knew that Romeo wasn’t out of danger yet.

Really, he thought, what would that fool do without him? This wasn’t the first time he had to discreetly cover to save Romeo’s hide; even as fun as it had been sneaking Tybalt out, he hadn’t wanted to play babysitter for the night; especially not when he was still feeling like death. Romeo owed him for tonight; and so, for that matter, did Juliet.

He was distracted for a second; only a second, he’d swear it on his life, by a pair of dancers accidentally colliding with him and hastily apologizing. The accident seemed to trigger his cold to begin acting up once more, and he stifled a fit of sneezing into his jacket sleeve. When he looked up once more, bleary eyed, he was alarmed to discover that Tybalt was gone again- this time rapidly wheeling his way over to the side of the room, where Romeo had apparently split off to find a waiter with champagne ( _idiot_ , Mercutio thought; Romeo couldn’t stand the stuff, and was obviously only drinking it to impress Juliet).

Mercutio sprinted after him, but unfortunately he wasn’t quite fast enough; the inevitable happened as Tybalt, both not paying attention where he was going and not really caring, wound up colliding with one of the very waiters Romeo had been seeking out. A young couple wound up covered in spilled champagne, the waiter began making hasty apologies, and Mercutio seized the moment of distraction to seize Tybalt by the back of his chair and make a quick getaway. That was enough.

“Alright, you’re feverish,” he declared, hastily wheeling him off the dance floor. Tybalt seemed to have exhausted himself, and now slumped back in his chair kicking his legs halfheartedly in protest. Mercutio only rolled his eyes and easily ignored him, wheeling “poor grandmama” out the door before anyone could stop him.

“She was having so much fun. Without me. With that man.”

“I know she was.” It felt to Mercutio as if he were comforting a child; Tybalt’s voice definitely had become small enough. “It’s okay, I’m sure she still loves you.”

“No,” Tybalt replied quietly. “She doesn’t.”

Mercutio didn’t know what to make of that. There were underlying implications there, of course, but for his own sake as well as Tybalt’s own he chose to ignore them; he had a sneaking idea that the Capulet was increasingly not in his right mind. They would have to do something for that fever as soon as they got back to the palace.

“Mercutio.” Tybalt reached up, grabbing his arm so suddenly that Mercutio actually stopped dead in the middle of the street, allowing the wheelchair to come to a rest in front of him. Pulling away the veil, Tybalt looked up at him with feverishly bright dark eyes. “You helped me tonight.”

“I helped me,” replied the blond derisively, a bit uncomfortable with the way Tybalt was staring at him. “I wanted to go to a party.”

“You were sick. And you helped me.” Slowly, Tybalt gave the other boy a small nod. “Thank you.”

Mercutio blinked in bafflement as Tybalt turned to slump in his chair once more. He couldn’t remember Tybalt thanking him- _genuinely_ thanking him- in… well, hardly ever. The sentiment was surprising; Mercutio stood in the street for a few more moments, staring in bafflement at the back of the dark haired boy’s head, before slowly seizing the chair once more and continuing to wheel him down the street.

It wasn’t until he got back to the palace that he realized Tybalt had fallen asleep.

xXx

“That was irresponsible,” Benvolio noted the next day, sounding wholly unimpressed despite Mercutio’s animated way of regaling him with the story. “He could have gotten really sick.”

Tybalt had left early that morning, at his cousin’s side; Mercutio hadn’t been disappointed to see him go. On the bright side, he was now feeling better himself, though Tybalt was still running a temperature as he departed the palace infirmary; Benvolio’s visit had been a welcome one, as had the chance to regale his friend with his adventures in the Capulet ballroom the previous night.

“Yes.” Mercutio held up a finger. “But he didn’t. And he didn’t catch Romeo, either, and for that I believe I deserve some credit.”

Benvolio rolled his eyes, swatting Mercutio with his book when his friend quickly tried to snatch it away from him. “Cut it out,” he muttered, but he was smirking; Mercutio returned the gesture with a wide grin.

“Admit it. You’re glad to see me better.”

“Maybe. Just to get you off my case.” Benvolio’s eyes danced as he glanced at him. “You still look like Rudolph though; Tybalt was right.”

It might have been a low blow. But Mercutio had it coming for his antics at the ball the night before; and as the other boy fell back against the couch with a dramatic wail, Benvolio couldn’t help but think that it was good indeed to see Mercutio back to normal.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written by request for sosearchingromeo, and somehow it... spiraled. I didn't mean to write a chapter fic, I really didn't.


End file.
